— by Anonymous —
When Diane called me that morning, asking me if I could help her with an art project, I immediately said sure. We had met at college that semester and I liked the confident blonde girl right away. “What kind of art project do you need help with?” I asked.
“Food,” was all she said, mysteriously. Kind of weird I guess. But I agreed anyway, and less than an hour later I was at her apartment.
I was surprised to see her dressed in just an old tee shirt and I guessed some panties, but what the heck. She told me it was a partial nude photography shoot, sort of a commentary on food and sex in society, and did I mind stripping down to panties and an old tee shirt she handed me? Actually I have a great body, and I work hard to keep it that way, so I soon wiggled out of my jeans, socks, shirt and bra and slipped on the soft tee shirt. Thats when she blindfolded me and asked me to sit in the reclining chair shed placed in the kitchen. A little apprehensive, I sat down.
The chair was warm, soft and comfortable. Diane began explaining to me about how food is used is society as a sexual agent, and how eroticism is built into the various products. I half-listened, relaxing in the darkness of the blindfold. “For instance,” she said, “take butter.” Gently I felt her lift the band of my panties away from my waist. A couple drops of smooth butter dripped onto me, and then she gently placed the whole frozen stick right down between my legs, gently replacing the waistband to hold it in position. While she matter-of-factly continued the lecture, all I could feel was the cold, smooth butter pressing against me and actually sliding into me. It was slowly starting to melt a little. It felt unusual. It felt… great.
The camera snapped several times. “Diane…” I began to say but she hushed me. I heard a squishy, moist sound to my right and soon I felt her finger, dipped generously in grape jelly, massage my lips. I licked at her sweet warm fingers but she stopped me, and tapped me lightly on the tip of my nose with her jellied index finger in reprimand. Obediently, I sat still and quietly. Next, a large amount of the warm jelly was slowly poured onto my mouth. It flowed sluggishly down my chin and spattered onto my chest with a satisfying sound. I licked my lips, helplessly. Click, click, went the camera. “Do you see the symbolism?” she asked. But really, the symbolism was lost on me. All I knew was this was starting to feel very good, very good indeed. I had never really felt anything like this before, and all this food felt wonderfully erotic. It was flooding my senses with new and exciting feelings.
“Whats next?” I managed in a husky whisper. “Eggs,” whispered Diane back, and with the crack of two shells, I felt two warm slimy eggs slip down the inside of my shirt. They slid past my now erect nipples and found a home with the softening butter. I felt slippery, juicy. I felt edible. I think I was starting to understand the symbolism. “How do you feel?” she asked gently. “Delicious,” I said. “Edible, erotic, aroused. Yummy. Gooey. Nice.” “Good,” was all she said.
Thats when the warm oatmeal began dripping on my face, slowly at first, then more like a thick luscious torrent. It flowed over my face and oozed over my ears and hair, at one point briefly blocking my briefly. Then she poured the heavy oatmeal over my food-soaked tee shirt, which I desperately wanted to peel off, eventually directing the cement-like goop all and upper body, and finally thickly applying it between my legs. I started feeling orgasmic. Click, click, click, the camera snapped away merrily. The butter was soft and pliable in my panties. The egg yolks broke, flowed down to the very base of me. Ummm. Delicious. When she coated my feet, toes and legs with the thick, soft, creamy oatmeal, I lost control. It just felt too good. Unashamedly, I reached between my legs. “Wait,” she whispered and kissed me lightly, gently removing my hand. I couldnt believe she had kissed me. The camera never stopped.
When the warm, soft pudding flowed down into my panties, I just laid back and grooved to it. I think I remember sighing with satisfaction, my whole being centered on the slowly flowing pudding. I felt so messy and happy, gooey and wiggly. I pulled in my stomach to make it easier for her to fill me up, and she cooed soft encouraging sounds while the pudding caressed me. It was all so mind blowing. I was glad she was in charge. I felt comfortable with her. I would have let her do anything, I think. I was pleased to be captured so naughty and messy on film. Afterwards, I felt exhausted and strange. It was like a whole new world had opened up before me… and poured itself right down my pants. Then, sadly, it was over. “How do you feel?” she finally asked, removing my blindfold. I looked at my body, completely spattered and covered with various slippery foods. It had felt so wonderful. Standing up, I could feel the slow slide of the various substances oozing down my muscular frame. If Diane was worried about food on the floor, she didnt act it. Nope, didnt act it at all. Me? I felt warm, gooey, happy. Sassy, even. Playful. “Like a new woman. Wheres the shower?” I asked laughing. “And next time you have an art project to do..” I hesitated, and then tossed a handful of chocolaty oatmeal I has hidden in my hand at her. It landed on her cheek with a satisfying splat. She looked at me thoughtfully and when the mess dripped down to her lips, she licked it off, and smiled. “…definitely count me in,” I said over my shoulder as I made my way to the shower.